Remember when big-headed Alec Baldwin, master thespian, SNL gadfly, threatened to move to Canada if Dubya were re-elected?
We’re still waiting. Et vous?
Modern? Not cheap? Or creepy? Or even a congenial “stupid as hell?”
To hear movie star Alec tell it, such “I just need a little (cyber) strange” proclivities are timeless. Why, randy cavemen drew wang picks on rocks and then prayed that the bone-in-bun hottie from the tribe over the hill saw them and… well, responded with a sexy vine-o-gram, right? Boys will be boys.
Never mind that he’s a congressman with a pregnant wife. Weiner, Baldwin defends, is a busy man, “high functioning” and on the go. “He exists under a constant pressure cooker of self-analysis and public appraisal,” writes Alec. “Like other politicians, he needs something to take the edge off. For some people, regardless of occupation, that could mean booze, drugs, gambling, food or shopping. For high functioning men like Weiner and other officials who have lived through such scandals, who are constantly on the go, that leaves one tried and true source of a reliable high. The affirmation that comes when someone lets you know they want to sleep with you. Or even cyber-sleep with you.”
Somewhere, Kim Basinger is gagging at these entitlement excuses for selfish conduct– and thanking her lucky stars she won’t have to deal with Big Head again. Meanwhile, we’re pondering an MLB-like trade that gives us Michael J. Fox, Pam Anderson and Wayne Gretzky – maybe a Celine Dion to be named later — in exchange for the intellectual king of the Hamptons. Oh, Canada…. can’t we make a deal?
For now, Baldwin, who invoked Biblical scripture in his kook missive, publishes a bro’s before ho’s defense that somehow soothes the way for poor Weiner, who after all, just needed a little long-distance bartender/hairdresser/random-bimbo affirmation to make him feel good about his image.
“Appointment sex with your spouse doesn’t always arrive when you need it most. A modern cell phone, loaded with contacts of willing fellow players, has a table with a red checkered table cloth ready for you at virtually any time.”
Quick, let us find our Blackberry. And a nice chianti. We hear condos in Toronto are a real buyer’s market these days.
In other news…
Love Reese Witherspoon. Love her. (Copy of Legally Blonde in briefcase, just in case we need a little Bend and Snap to get through a tough day.)
Southern, petite, smart and wry. Newlywed and photographed by paparazzi coming out of church, rather than some Lindsay club. And she’s an Oscar winner no less, a bona fide recipient of THE lovenote from her Tinseltown peeps that sez despite the girlish sweetness and bouf, she’s a legitimate talent. With quite a bully pulpit.
Like many steel magnolias we admire, Reese has a history of calling ‘em like she sees ‘em. She made a lotta cute, clean-livin’ chicks swoon when she took to the mic at the MTV Movie Awards last week to decry the faux celebrity of reality television. Her remarks – pointed and unexpected – laid low the Snookies and Real Housewives of this world who are coasting the cable airwaves on minute 16 of the quarter-hour fame clock.
Her acceptance speech also proved a balm for those gals whose ambition track follows talent and hard work – not boobs, bad language and manipulation.
”I get it, girls, that it’s cool to be a bad girl.” Witherspoon jabbed as she accepted MTV’s Generation Award.
“But it is possible to make it in Hollywood without doing a reality show,” she added. “When I came up in this business, if you made a sex tape, you were embarrassed and you hid it under your bed.
“And if you took naked pictures of yourself on your cell phone, you hide your face, people!”
Oh, snaps. Elle Woods – for president.
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